“Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. Nice, of course. I wonder what it was. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. Families had seen their lands seized, their chateaux ransacked or burned, and those unlucky enough to have failed to anticipate disaster, had been murdered or dragged away to gaol. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. He was daring enough to have seized and carried him off before the whole congregation, but he preferred waiting.
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